Week 1: Something About Jungles -- Or Maybe Tangled Hair Trends?

The following blog is for MED 667. It is a weekly blog to discuss some of the finer things found on writing/storytelling/film/etc.

I'm going to start this off with: I just deleted a whole block of written text because I felt that I wasn't exactly striking at anything enlightening.

Not that every excavation of the world of prose is intended to be a glorifying oil escape of gold, I just wasn't happy with what I was writing. There is one thing I've learned and that is to be true to myself, and if I'm not happy with where I'm going and it seems like I'm lost, well I may drive down the road for another 30 minutes, but it's uncomfortable and I know I'm in the wrong direction.

I do dare to venture out and experiment with the task of putting happy little words together in some contorted sense of matrimony, but perhaps one of the most important things, even in venturing too far left or too far right or too far diagonal, is that you must still have your instincts for survival, even in the written world.

With that being said, what is instinct in writing? All writing is a mirror to reality and I sincerely believe that this statement can be reapplied to writing in a myriad of ways. In reflecting on myself, I think instinct comes from knowing what actually makes one passionate. I have no idea why anyone would write about something they have no interest in but that's generally a bizarre road to take. I mean, if you hate bananas, then why are you eating bananas? My conclusion would be you've either lost it or deep down you like bananas. Knowing one's self is how you get through the jungle; knowing your instincts in writing gets you out of the tangled web of unsatisfactory drafts.

Instinct has its own innate qualities but at the same time it is something that is built upon over a number of years. I think a great deal of it comes from experimenting, observing, and persistence. Once you know a thing or two about grammar -- you can fly! But anyone who actually has spent time with words and would say that they are perfect at grammar is really just a person who should be avoided at all costs because most likely they've never been brave enough to make a mistake or they are holding dearly to some outdated rules from the 1950s.

When I was a kid, I actually took a shot at compound and complex sentences; variation gave me pats on the back by English teachers. And I imagine for many writers... they were drafted into the industry of wordsmithing out of similar cases. Granted, this isn't just a reflection of my writing capabilities as a youth; it is a testimony to how I lived growing up. I experimented with all kind of things to see what would happen in the hope of improving upon craft -- whether odd cooking recipes with tacos with bright colored sprinkles or tapping leaves together for art: one has to find the heartbeat of these things even if they do start in questionable ways.

Experimenting with words led to a greater understanding of grammar and its friends. The rules of the time ended up being ingrained in my head while at the same time, I made countless mistakes, and I will continue to do so -- and I'm more than thrilled by this.

Studying the rule books will help one to spring forward; actually trying and seeing yourself fall short a few thousand times will help you to build the authorial instincts one needs to tell genius level stories, not just happy cute pampering average stories.

My number (2) note for "writing instinct" is to observe. Some writers have stated that a plethora of reading and writing in turn creates well-balanced writers. Obviously, there's some truth in that, but I think there needs to be a much more open eye on this scale of achievement. Strong writing is about perspective whether that's from traveling all over the world, meeting people that are different from you, educating one's self, exploring other art forms, or any number of reasons -- a healthy amount of reformed perspective is the key in consistent reading and writing. How are you suppose to create characters different from yourself if you don't expose yourself to the type of syntax patterns of other minds? By having conversations, living one's life, and traversing through the world of ideas, I think the writer can begin to piece how others function, how their particular dialect is built and shaped, and how one's place of origin and biological factors all come into play in how one exists. If you want an ear for dialogue, you have to listen to the way people speak, not just their native tongue, but their articulating thought patterns, their Freudian slips, their supposed gangsta' flare, and whatever else the tongue decides to relate. If you want to survive in the jungle, you have to know the voices of the jungle; knowing intimately one animal noise could save a person from being kitty food. You want to know what's out in the written world? Go read. Want to know what you're trying to mirror in writing? Go live your life.

My last lesson of the day is perseverance. Working one's way out of a nasty, never ending jungle takes work. If you want to accomplish a piece, you can go through it without a plan, but it may be a tasking and pointless long route when by some serious planning not only will you get out of the jungle quicker, you'll also feel less... lost to the way of the jungle. Anyone serious about writing needs to equip herself with the right tools just as someone lost in a jungle (I'm really starting to hate this analogy) needs a compass, flashlight, food, etc.

Keep in mind what exactly are your end goals, is what you're trying to accomplish worth it, and what about it makes it innovative in the overwhelmingly vicious network of interchanging and interlocked ideas? I don't think a strong writer is someone who just tosses a few words on paper to be cute and right; it's someone who is trying to go deep into the depths of a fossil heap to find the un-found dinosaur organs, not just because it's awesome on a science fictiony level but because it unveils something new for us all, something that can provide new answers, perchance even hope. The arrowheads and T. Rexes have been found, but buried in a world of wonders are ideas so precious that they can actually inspire and reshape the minds of whole societies. There may be words out there to stop wars, end sex trade slaving, and bring answers into light.

Kind of dreaming a bit big here and getting a little preachy, but you know, there are realities to be found in storytelling. And that may very well be the simplest reason why storytelling is important.

We're all searching for reality. Finding the right methods will in effect lead to understanding reality.